


Natasha Romanoff: Consummate Professional

by albaparthenicevelut



Series: The Good Ship Avenger [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Except when she isn't, Female Tony Stark, Gen, Natasha Romanov is above your shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 01:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6933364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albaparthenicevelut/pseuds/albaparthenicevelut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is above all of this. Really, she floats high above the fray, allowing her teammates' shenanigans to pass her by but sometimes a woman cannot simply stand by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natasha Romanoff: Consummate Professional

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short drabble though I will probably continue to write snippets of this universe.

So the thing is, Natasha Romanoff is above your bullshit. All of it, without exception, equivocation, or qualification. She is a fucking professional, concerned only with the ruthlessly efficient execution of her duties, which, as second in command on the good ship Avenger, mainly constitute matters of inventory, commerce, security, and something she somewhat euphemistically refers to as negotiation. 

Natasha is excellent at her job, so excellent in fact that the ship Avenger survives and thrives in the notoriously cutthroat criminal milieu of the late Terran Diaspora. This feat is spoken of in admiring and baffled tones in the ports of colonial and unaffiliated planets and satellites throughout the Diasporic Belt. 

The thing is, Natasha may herself be unrelentingly no-nonsense but she works on a team of people who wouldn’t know professionalism if it danced up to them in only a strategically draped feather boa and kicked them in the balls. She’s just trying to do her job. It isn’t her fault that Stark programmed the ship’s security system, JARVIS, to play the Addams Family theme whenever she entered a room. Nobody can rightfully blame her for this, or so she reasons. 

Natasha is not overburdened with friends, that would require significantly lower paranoia levels than she actually has, but she does have a lot of former associates who owe her favors. Natasha cultivates these debts wherever she goes the way some spacers cultivate hydroponic herb gardens. Always repay your debts and then some, that is Natasha’s modus operandi. Leave your contacts indebted to you. You never know when you might need to extract some sort of favor from them. 

The upshot of all of this is that Natasha has a contact on the Wakandan satellite city that owes her a sizeable favor (covering up infidelity doesn’t come cheap, especially when your “mistress” is your wife’s precious, pedigree Terran Rhodesian Ridgeback) and better yet, has the shipment of precious vibranium that Stark has been demanding for months. A couple quiet communications and Tony is off on a daylong wild goose chase through the crowded Port while Natasha calmly receives box on the Avenger and has an otherwise lazy and enjoyable day. She and the rest of the crew are in the mess, passing around a bottle of grog when Stark stalks in.  
“You!” She snaps, pointing a finger at Natasha. Her eyes flash dark fire. If Natasha were anyone else she might be concerned. As it is, she gives Stark a calm little smile and raises an eyebrow.

“Yes?” She asks mildly. Stark growls. Somebody, probably Clint chokes back a snort. Stark wheels around and scowls around the room, searching for the culprit. When nobody incriminates themselves she turns back to Natasha.

“You know why I’m here.” She snarls. Natasha eyes her calmly. Slowly and with great deliberateness, she picks up an apple and begins peeling it with her jackknife.

“And you know what you need to do to prevent further incidents, don’t you, Stark?” Starks lets out a string of curses and storms out of the galley. 

“Language.” Rogers calls. The room erupts into laughter. Stark waves both middle fingers at them as she stomps away.


End file.
